Wildest Dreams
by bellatrxx
Summary: While playing their parts at the Runway Benefit, Miranda and Andy do some wishful thinking. Will their romance stay only in their wildest dreams?


This was inspíred by a manip done by a new friend and the song Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift. Mainly, the picture was Andrea and Mirand at the Runway Benefit and I couldn't stop myself, really. I hope you all will enjoy it and this is pure wishful thinking on both parts. Anyways, tell me what you think! Bisous!

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Andy was already feeling the ache in her feet from those hellish high heels she had on. Her patience was wearing thin because Miranda hadn't made her grand entrance yet and Emily was sneezing, her eyes and nose seeming a bit red - fine, very red - despite the amount of makeup that covered her face. When their boss told them that both would have to come to the benefit because the first assistant became an incubus of viral plague, Andy was ready to kill Emily with her bare pale hands.

The brunette was fidgeting, she couldn't deny it. Nate and her friends were probably waiting for her, getting more pissed by the minute. Though she couldn't care less about that, it made her sad that Miranda meant more to her than any of the others. The editor meant more than Nate, than her friends and definitely more than their jealousy. Because it was quite obvious by now, they were all jealous of her. She was growing up, acquiring good taste and new experiences while Nate remained in a kitchen, frying potatoes. Lily had her gallery but truth be told, she didn't have that much talent and no one would buy pieces from a new comer. Andy couldn't even think about Doug, poor thing. Still trapped in a job that killed his spirits day by day.

They were all completely different from Miranda. Miranda who was competent, successful and driven. Sharp minded Miranda, making grown men and women cry like 3 years old because she wanted the best from them not some mildly done 'stuff'. Gorgeous Miranda. Yes, gorgeous. Beautiful. Unique. There was no use in ignoring it anymore, was it? She was deeply attracted to Miranda Priestly. Well, wasn't karma a little bitch?

While she thought her feelings over, foolishly trying to minimize them, the atmosphere around her changed. It seemed colder and yet, far more pleasant and gracious than before. She heard Emily gasp and whisper 'Oh my god, she looks amazing' like a love-struck puppy. The brunette only hoped someday Emily would end that idiotic infatuation she had on Miranda. She was sure that if the Queen of Fashion asked the redhead to stop a train with her head and die while trying, Emily would do it. And she would do it with a huge smile on her face because Miranda had asked her and no one else. But Andy knew who was coming and setting her spine back and straight, she got ready for it.

Surely enough, Miranda was descending the staircase, her marble skin encased by an exquisite black Valentino. Her shoulders were exposed and drew attention because they had nothing upon them, not even a silk wrap. Her earrings were long and reminded Andy of raindrops. Her white hair was softly brushed, strands falling upon others while her infamously stubborn fringe was framing the side of her face.

Miranda's painted eyes swept around the room before setting onto her assistants and motioning for them to fall in step behind her. The older woman spent a little too long staring at Andréa, but who was to reprimand her? Her husband was nowhere to be seen and the girl was clearly the most gorgeous in the party. The black dress Nigel had chosen for her was perfection set against her soft curves. Her chocolate eyes seemed wider and deeper, her lips were painted and her hair was held by a white flower. She was magnificent. Of course, there were better dressed women but no one could match the sweetness those eyes held nor could they come close to resemble the smile on those red lips.

Miranda couldn't remember seeing such a glorious creature. Not even in the dreams she had night after night with her second assistant. In those dreams Andréa would walk to her, rosy cheeks and a small smile playing upon those decadent lips as she closed the space between their bodies and kissed Miranda with the sheer force of her desire. They would then proceed and make love, something Miranda had been craving for her whole life and yet, never had.

Life was unfair on Miranda and no one could say it wasn't true. She was currently married to an idiot who drank all the time and was nowhere close to the father figure she had envisioned for him. Although her position seemed secured she knew Jacqueline wouldn't be at her party without some intent. Irv had to be planning something to throw her off, but of course she would get the upper hand soon enough. Her mind jumped from one thought to another, filling things she would need later while she pretended to listen to Emily whispering names and facts about the guests. What would be of her if she knew that Miranda was sure of each and every name in that huge file? Emily would probably fling herself off a building after murdering Miranda with a champagne flute.

Miranda almost snapped at said redhead when she forgot a name. How could she forget something? Wasn't Miranda paying her enough? Was she reaching for the stars? Not really. It was a simple name and some sordid facts about the man's personal life. But Andréa managed to save the day, inclining to reach Miranda and getting those delectable lips close to the woman's ear. The editor felt a shiver run up her arm and tried to conceal it while the girl whispered everything she needed to know. Today would be one of those days, days she would get home and see her girls, put them to bed and head to her own bedroom – sans Stephen, of course. She would undress and lay down and finally, she would slowly, gently touch herself; like she imagined that Andréa would do. The girl would treat her like a queen and reverend her beauty like Miranda deserved after all those unloved years.

She had seen the looks the girl sent her, the sly smiles and the sighs. At first, they drove her crazy and she wondered if she wasn't instilling that famous old fear as she used to do. But then it dawned on her, the silly girl was attracted to her. And Miranda could let whichever hurtful words tumble past her fine lips, but deep inside she knew and tried to ignore all the same: she felt the same for Andréa, if not more heartfelt emotions. But she couldn't let that go past that. An attraction, some small flame burning inside her that she would soon extinguish and be over with. Because that was what she did. She repulsed what would make her happy so she could be successful. She denied herself love because she knew someday it would end. Love wasn't eternal, at least, not for the marvelous Miranda Priestly. And she was sure – deep down inside herself – she wouldn't be able to handle the pain of heartbreak.

It would pain her, but for the sake of her career, her children and even her idiotic drunk husband, she had to make sure she would only see, touch and love her lovely Andréa again in her wildest dreams.


End file.
